The power of unbelieving
by Engsig
Summary: A TCP about how a womans disbelief in mutants affects the world around her. Usual disclaimer...Marvels not mine, don't sue, have no money....


The power of un-believing  
  
Meela didn't believe in mutants. It was all stuff and nonsense people made  
up to attract attention to themselves, like those poor people who believed   
that aliens performed experiments on them, or the girls who said they were  
haunted by poltergeists, and the spoon bending 'telekinetics' from the fifties.  
It could all be explained as flummery, cheap (though well done) tricks any   
stage magician worth his salt could do. Flummery and physics, that's all it was.  
  
Really, as she said to her weekly sewing circle, this teleportation idea   
could be done with mirrors and distraction. Hadn't they seen David Copperfield do  
just that on TV the other night? And pyro-kinetics, those were flame throwers with   
mini-hidden tanks, even she knew about those. Hadn't they all waved a burning stick   
in the air to write their names, it all came down to the same things as 'controlling'  
the flames. Besides, she'd never seen an actual "mutant" with powers that worked, or  
didn't have visible evidence of quite a good make-up job.   
  
George, for instance, a man they'd all known since grade school, had taken it   
into his head that he could fly without wings or any for of assistance. He could just  
soar off into the sky like a bird. He'd just been "hiding the ability" for the past   
sixty years because he didn't want to seem different. Meela had amusedly agreed to go  
watch his demonstration to prove to her that he and other mutants were real.   
  
The emergency room staff couldn't figure out why a grown man in supposed full   
possession of his full faculties would want to jump off a barn roof and break both legs.  
George still couldn't understand why he hadn't flown. Meela could have explained why,  
but he was already mad at her for laughing herself sick all the way to the hospital,  
and telling him he wasn't a bird wouldn't help matters any.  
  
Or, as she told her less than enrapt audience who had heard this particular   
spiel before, that poor troubled boy from the city. The one who had tried to mug her?   
Why he'd just grabbed her off the street into an ally, then glared at her most   
peculiarly, as though he'd wanted her to do something. He never said anything, just  
glared and made faces. When she had looked at him concernedly and asked if he was   
feeling all right he'd stammered something unintelligible about having to be   
somewhere else and run off looking very confused.  
  
It was only later in the paper that she read a description of him, the police  
were calling him a mutant mugger with telepathic abilities, any one who saw him was to  
phone them immediately. (Stuff and nonsense) He was probably one of those troubled   
homeless people with a mental problem, most likely his 'victims' gave him their money  
out of pity then said they were mugged to keep from looking silly.  
  
And those super-hero groups! Bah, phooey! Why, they should be arrested for indecency and   
appalling bad taste to be running around in those silly spandex outfits. In her day  
it wasn't legal to go dressed like that in public, never mind interfering with rightful  
police business. Never mind those outfits would be hot in summer, cold in winter, and  
were useless as protection in any kind of fight. Though some of the ladies would probably  
be somewhat distracting to an enemy... Meela couldn't believe that anyone would take  
people like that seriously, anyone who wore spandex in those colors had to be off in  
the head.   
  
Take those X-Men for example (what kind of name was that anyway? "X-Men", it   
sounded like a bad melodrama from the talkies.) she'd gone to the city again and   
walked into one of their battles, if you could call it that. They spent more time   
spouting off school yard taunts than actual fighting.  
  
With this revelation her audience merely began another square on their quilt, and   
shifted position.  
  
She'd been hit by one of those brightly colored beams, coming from a young  
man in yellow and blue, and all it had done was tickle some. Rather like those   
flashlights she'd created for her grandchildren...? The ones with the colored cellophane  
so they could have light sabers to play star wars with. Nothing had happened to them  
either, other than a flashlight 'accidentally' connecting with a forehead, which was  
more dramatic that this 'clash of mutant renegades' as the press dubbed it.  
  
A rather short, hairy, unwashed and smelly individual wearing one of  
the most ridiculous outfits yet (was he a tropical fish or was his head attempting to  
fly away on it's own?) had 'escorted' her out of harms way. She'd been more than  
willing to let them get back to their fun and games, though they seemed surprised she  
wasn't bothered by it all, and she supposed patting the tall, even smellier blonde one   
on the head and telling him to play nice spoiled the illusion of tough people with powers.  
But really, adults should outgrow this and be adults.  
  
She did wonder about the claws though. It must be a new fad, rather like   
having one's tongue pierced. It seemed a bit extreme to her mind.  
  
"Or telling tall tales on a regular basis, Meela love?" asked one of her cronies.   
"Yes, actually, just like that!" Not taking the hint, Meela stated that in all  
her Eighty years of living she'd never seen mutant powers that couldn't be explained  
one way or the other through flimflam and trickery. Young people today and their  
ideas.  
  
  
******  
  
Mutant Scanning in Progress:  
  
Mutant Found: Meela Jenkins  
  
Age: 80  
  
Power: Belief- short range ability with limited effect, to cause anything she   
disbelieves to become reality. 


End file.
